Oops! I am a bit clumsy!
(Author’s POV)
The sun shone brightly, glistening over the streets of Los Angeles. Today was an exceptional day for Amara Collins. After all, it was her very first job.
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ahh! Who is disturbing my beauty sleep? Oh, Mom, of course. The only call I needed this morning. Looks like I’m in for a lecture I didn’t sign up for.
ME: MOMMM! It’s 5:30 AM. Who the hell died that you’re calling so early? Is everything alright?
(Sarah Collins, her mother): Good morning—and just to assure you, nobody died, blind girl. But you are definitely going to miss your first day of work. For God’s sake, Amara, didn’t you set an alarm? It’s 9:30 AM, and last time I checked, it was a $5000 job, and the office starts at 10:00 AM.
ME: Oh, crap! It’s 9:30 already? Bye, Mom—I have tons to do. I’ll update you in the evening.
Her mother: Amara! Wait a second. All the best, sweetheart. We believe in you. Love you, baby girl.
ME: Umm… thanks, I guess… Love you too, Mom.
Damn it. These maps! I should probably hire someone to read them. I took the wrong way—shit! It was a left turn. Ugh! Driving in this morning LA traffic is a nightmare. And of course, no parking spot. Guess I’ll just walk.
(To a lady walking) Excuse me, ma’am… could you tell me where this building is?
“Oh dear, the Regent Park? Take the second right from the Pillsbury Café. You’ll find it there.”
Thanks a lot, ma’am.
Oh, there it is. 312, Regent Park… right?
(Author’s POV) Amara keeps walking for another hundred meters when she spots a man coming from the opposite direction, talking on his phone, a cup of coffee in one hand. She tries to move past him, but suddenly—
SPLASH!
The coffee spills all over her crisp white shirt and blue pencil skirt, soaking through the fabric and instantly ruining both her outfit and her mood.
“What the heck? Where do you think you’re going? Are you blind or what? You just cost me a $200 shirt—and probably my job! It’s my first day. What will my boss think? That I’m a jerk who can’t even handle coffee?”
“Lady, I’m sorry. It was completely accidental. It just slipped out of my hands, and I… I couldn’t stop it. But accidents happen, right? Look, I’m not trying to cover it up—I can help you clean this.”
“No thanks! Please look before walking and ruining someone’s clothes.”
“By the way… all the best. And—sorry again.”
(He walks away.)
Amara stands there for a moment, frozen, her shirt clinging uncomfortably to her skin, the faint smell of coffee rising around her. Great. Just perfect.
A strange feeling creeps in.
She feels like she’s seen him before… or maybe heard that exact voice somewhere. The familiarity lingers, just out of reach.
(Amara’s POV) Could it be Daniel from AP Chemistry… or Professor Thompson…?
No. No, it’s nobody. I’m just stressed. I need to focus.
But still… in this ruined shirt, the odds of me not getting fired feel ridiculously high.
I have to go.
I’m already twenty minutes late.
I just hope my files didn’t get wet.
(The elevator doors slide open.)
Amara steps inside and notices a girl around her age, dressed professionally. She instinctively straightens up, trying to ignore the damp fabric clinging to her.
The girl smiles. “First day, eh?”
“Yeah,” Amara replies, forcing a small smile.
“Me too. I’m Amelia.”
“Amara. Nice to meet you.”
“Same here.”
For a brief second, Amara exhales.
Maybe the day isn’t completely ruined.
Maybe.
CH2
CH1 – Oops! I Am a Bit Clumsy (Author’s POV) The sun shone brightly, glistening over the streets of Los Angeles. Today was an exceptional day for Amara Collins. After all, it was her very first job.
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ahh! Who is disturbing my beauty sleep? Oh, Mom, of course. The only call I needed this morning. Looks like I’m in for a lecture I didn’t sign up for.
ME: MOMMM! It’s 5:30 AM. Who the hell died that you’re calling so early? Is everything alright?
(Sarah Collins, her mother): Good morning—and just to assure you, nobody died, blind girl. But you are definitely going to miss your first day of work. For God’s sake, Amara, didn’t you set an alarm? It’s 9:30 AM, and last time I checked, it was a $5000 job, and the office starts at 10:00 AM.
ME: Oh, crap! It’s 9:30 already? Bye, Mom—I have tons to do. I’ll update you in the evening.
Her mother: Amara! Wait a second. All the best, sweetheart. We believe in you. Love you, baby girl.
ME: Umm… thanks, I guess… Love you too, Mom.
Damn it. These maps! I should probably hire someone to read them. I took the wrong way—shit! It was a left turn. Ugh! Driving in this morning LA traffic is a nightmare. And of course, no parking spot. Guess I’ll just walk.
(To a lady walking) Excuse me, ma’am… could you tell me where this building is?
“Oh dear, the Regent Park? Take the second right from the Pillsbury Café. You’ll find it there.”
Thanks a lot, ma’am.
Oh, there it is. 312, Regent Park… right?
(Author’s POV) Amara keeps walking for another hundred meters when she spots a man coming from the opposite direction, talking on his phone, a cup of coffee in one hand. She tries to move past him, but suddenly—
SPLASH!
The coffee spills all over her crisp white shirt and blue pencil skirt, soaking through the fabric and instantly ruining both her outfit and her mood.
“What the heck? Where do you think you’re going? Are you blind or what? You just cost me a $200 shirt—and probably my job! It’s my first day. What will my boss think? That I’m a jerk who can’t even handle coffee?”
“Lady, I’m sorry. It was completely accidental. It just slipped out of my hands, and I… I couldn’t stop it. But accidents happen, right? Look, I’m not trying to cover it up—I can help you clean this.”
“No thanks! Please look before walking and ruining someone’s clothes.”
“By the way… all the best. And—sorry again.”
(He walks away.)
Amara stands there for a moment, frozen, her shirt clinging uncomfortably to her skin, the faint smell of coffee rising around her. Great. Just perfect.
A strange feeling creeps in.
She feels like she’s seen him before… or maybe heard that exact voice somewhere. The familiarity lingers, just out of reach.
(Amara’s POV) Could it be Daniel from AP Chemistry… or Professor Thompson…?
No. No, it’s nobody. I’m just stressed. I need to focus.
But still… in this ruined shirt, the odds of me not getting fired feel ridiculously high.
I have to go.
I’m already twenty minutes late.
I just hope my files didn’t get wet.
(The elevator doors slide open.)
Amara steps inside and notices a girl around her age, dressed professionally. She instinctively straightens up, trying to ignore the damp fabric clinging to her.
The girl smiles. “First day, eh?”
“Yeah,” Amara replies, forcing a small smile.
“Me too. I’m Amelia.”
“Amara. Nice to meet you.”
“Same here.”
For a brief second, Amara exhales.
Maybe the day isn’t completely ruined.
Maybe.
